The Big Front Yard

Taine threw down the board and rose angrily to his feet.

“If you’d both shut up!” he shouted. “I’ve been trying to say something ever since you got here and I can’t get in a word. And I tell you, it’s important—”

“Hiram!” Henry exclaimed in horror.

“It’s quite all right,” said the U.N. man. “We have been jabbering. And now, Mr. Taine?”

“I’m backed into a corner,” Taine told him, “and I need some help. I’ve sold these fellows on the idea of paint, but I don’t know a thing about it—the principle back of it or how it’s made or what goes into it or—”

“But, Mr. Taine, if you’re selling them the paint, what difference does it make—”

“I’m not selling them the paint,” yelled Taine. “Can’t you understand that? They don’t want the paint. They want the idea of paint, the principle of paint. It’s something that they never thought of and they’re interested. I offered them the paint idea for the idea of their saddles and I’ve almost got it—”

“Saddles? You mean those things over there, hanging in the air?”

“That is right. Beasly, would you ask one of our friends to demonstrate a saddle?”

“You bet I will,” said Beasly.

“What,” demanded Henry, “has Beasly got to do with this?”

“Beasly is an interpreter. I guess you’d call him a telepath. You remember how he always claimed he could talk with Towser?”

“Beasly was always claiming things.”

“But this time he was right. He tells Chuck, that fu

“Ridiculous!” snorted Henry. “Beasly hasn’t got the sense to be… what did you say he was?”

“A telepath,” said Taine.

One of the aliens had gotten up and climbed into a saddle. He rode it forth and back. Then he swung out of it and sat down again.

“Remarkable,” said the U.N. man. “Some sort of antigravity unit, with complete control. We could make use of that, indeed.”

He scraped his hand across his chin.

“And you’re going to exchange the idea of paint for the idea of that saddle?”

“That’s exactly it,” said Taine, “but I need some help. I need a chemist or a paint manufacturer or someone to explain how paint is made. And I need some professor or other who’ll understand what they’re talking about when they tell me the idea of the saddle.”

“I see,” said Lancaster. “Yes, indeed, you have a problem. Mr. Taine, you seem to me a man of some discernment—”

“Oh, he’s all of that,” interrupted Henry. “Hiram’s quite astute.”

“So I suppose you’ll understand,” said the U.N. man, “that this whole procedure is quite irregular—”

“But it’s not,” exploded Taine. “That’s the way they operate. They open up a planet and then they exchange ideas. They’ve been doing that with other planets for a long, long time. And ideas are all they want, just the new ideas, because that is the way to keep on building a technology and culture. And they have a lot of ideas, sir, that the human race can use.”

“That is just the point,” said Lancaster. “This is perhaps the most important thing that has ever happened to us humans. In just a short year’s time we can obtain data and ideas that will put us ahead— theoretically, at least—by a thousand years. And in a thing that is so important, we should have experts on the job—”

“But,” protested Henry, “you can’t find a man who’ll do a better dickering job than Hiram. When you dicker with him your back teeth aren’t safe. Why don’t you leave him be? Hell do a job for you. You can get your experts and your pla

Beasly came over and faced the U.N. man.

“I won’t work with no one else,” he said. “If you kick Hiram out of here, then I go along with him. Hiram’s the only person who ever treated me like a human—”

“There, you see!” Henry said, triumphantly.

“Now, wait a second, Beasly,” said the U.N. man. “We could make it worth your while. I should imagine that an interpreter in a situation such as this could command a handsome salary.”

“Money don’t mean a thing to me,” said Beasly. “It won’t buy me friends. People still will laugh at me.”

“He means it, mister,” Henry warned. “There isn’t anyone who can be as stubborn as Beasly. I know; he used to work for us.”

The U.N. man looked flabbergasted and not a little desperate.

“It will take you quite some time,” Henry pointed out, “to find another telepath—leastwise one who can talk to these people here.”

The U.N. man looked as if he were strangling. “I doubt,” he said, “there’s another one on Earth.”

“Well, all right,” said Beasly, brutally, “let’s make up our minds. I ain’t standing here all day.”

“All right!” cried the U.N. man. “You two go ahead. Please, will you go ahead? This is a chance we can’t let slip through our fingers. Is there anything you want? Anything I can do for you?”

“Yes, there is,” said Taine. “There’ll be the boys from Washington and bigwigs from other countries. Just keep them off my back.”

“I’ll explain most carefully to everyone. There’ll be no interference.”

“And I need that chemist and someone who’ll know about the saddles. And I need them quick. I can stall these boys a little longer, but not for too much longer.”

“Anyone you need,” said the U.N. man. “Anyone at all. I’ll have them here in hours. And in a day or two there’ll be a pool of experts waiting for whenever you may need them—on a moment’s notice.”

“Sir,” said Henry, unctuously, “that’s most co-operative. Both Hiram and I appreciate it greatly. And now, since this is settled, I understand that there are reporters waiting. They’ll be interested in your statement.”

The U.N. man, it seemed, didn’t have it in him to protest. He and Henry went tramping up the stairs.

Taine turned around and looked out across the desert.

“It’s a big front yard,” he said.